Mage of the Shadow Realm
by MeshackDiva
Summary: The border as dark as night rips across the land. Its jagged teeth reaching out as if it wants to consume more of the land in the light. Its hight reaches all the way to the sky, seeming to stop when it touches the clouds. No one crosses the border, no one come near it if they can help it. Because everyone knows what rests beyond the swirling blackness - The Shadow Realm.
1. Chapter 1

The mage watches the practice ring with a small smile on his lips. A young woman faces a very large dark skinned man. His muscle arms could snap her in half easily, but she only smiles as she charges. The dark haired woman is light on her feet, dancing around the man with ease as they parry. Though Stiles knows the solider is holding back.

"Prince Derek." He murmurs in greeting to the man that joins him on the balcony.

"Stiles." He returns.

"My proper title is Mage Stiles you know."

"And I thought we were past formalities."

The mage chuckles, honey-suckle orbs glancing to the very handsome man next to him. He's in a guard uniform, the simple attire he prefers. His dark locks are missing the smooth ring of gold that serves as his crown. He doesn't look away until he is met with green orbs.

"How is she doing?" The prince gestures to the pit before crossing his arms.

"Good. Boyd is going easy on her."

"I can see that."

Stiles shrugs, "He has a soft spot for her."

Derek startles, eyes glancing back to Stiles. "I didn't know he liked her."

The mage rolls his eyes. Of course that's where Derek's mind would go. "I believe its more like a little sister bond. Not all siblings try to kill each other in the ring."

Derek huffs a laugh. "We are not that bad."

"Cora nearly broke Laura's arm and that was only because Laura broke her nose first." Stiles smirks at Derek's shrug. "Should I bring up the last time you went against your uncle?"

"That's different."

Stiles opens his mouth to make a snide comment about Peter but motion in the ring catches his eyes. The woman is now encased in a glowing aurora of a fox, her hands crackling with lighting.

Boyd takes a few steps back as guards approach the fox. "Stay back!" He commands.

"Shit." Stiles sprints for the stairs. "_Shit. Shit. Shit._"

"I thought you said she was getting her powers under control." The prince calls from behind him.

"Not now, Derek. Stop following!" The queen will have his head if he allows her son to be injured in his presence.

He makes it to the ring just as the fox starts to attack. Stiles doesn't think as he mutters words under his breath. Blue light erupts from the floor, creating a wall, encircling him and the fox.

"Kira." The fox turns to him. His friends usual dark almond eyes are now alight with fiery orange. The color almost identical with that of a hellhound. "You can control this. Reign in the fox."

"We will not be contained." Kira's voice echoes with ancient power.

Lighting strikes out, Stiles barely jump out of the way in time. The wall flares with the impact meant for him. Stiles can feel the rush off energy in his bones as his magic absorbs the energy.

The fox narrows her eyes. "Your magic might be strange, Mage, but it will not save you."

"Kira. Take control." He doesn't want to truly engage because he knows the fox speaks the truth. He is no match for the creature that resides inside the woman in front of him.

More lighting flies from Kira's hands, Stiles evades with a series of twists and turns. Before he learned how to fight, he learned how to run – how to survive. It's a skill most humans try to perfect being in a world of supernatural creatures and magic. Stiles likes to think that its one of his greatest skills, though every now and then he is outmatched.

His body flares in pain as Lighting races through his blood. He would scream but his body has locked up in a twisted way as he slams into the dirt of the pit. Luckily the wall remains up.

"Kira." He wheezes. "Take control. Now."

The fox takes a step towards him only to stop. In the blink of an eye the aurora is gone and Kira is stumbling back. Stiles drags in a lungful of air as he releases his magic. With the walls gone Derek and Boyd are sprinting to them.

"Stiles! I'm so sorry!" The young fox gasps hands over her mouth in horror. She shrinks into Boyd's embrace but her eyes never leave him.

Hands roll him onto his back. He blinks the rears from his eyes as he takes in Derek's face looming over him. "Where are you hurt?"

Stiles can't answer that. He doesn't know where he was originally struck because everything hurts. "I'm okay." He finally voices. Because he is… or rather will be.

Derek's eyes snap to Kira. "Boyd, take her to Deaton. Have him check her over. The wolf nods, quickly whisking the fox away.

Derek's hands start to roam along Stiles' body. "Easy, Prince. Not in front of everyone."

"I'm trying to see where she hit you. I can't tell with this damn robe."

"First, it's a cloak. Second, not all of us can forgo wearing our official attire and third, I'm fine. Yes she hit me. Yes it hurt. But I'm fine."

Green eyes set on him with a stern glare. "We are still going to have Deaton take a look at you."

"As you wish, Sourwolf." The nickname does the trick and loosens the prince up a bit from the worry. "Now help me up. I'm sure your mother will want to speak with me."

Derek helps Stiles to his feet. His eyes rake over the younger man as if he still might be able to see an injury.

Stiles huffs. "You can give me a full evaluation tonight if you wish."

Derek's frown doesn't leave his face but his eyes grow dark with something that sends a shiver down Stiles' spine. "Let's get you to mother."

Stiles can't help but notice Derek glancing at him discreetly the whole way to the council room. "You worry too much." He mumbles as they approach the doors.

"I worry enough. You need to be more careful." The prince retorts as he swings open the doors.

Only one person sits at the table; A table that is a map of their land and the lands around it. Talia Hale is a royal with every pump of blood through her veins. She is a queen in her attire, posture, and voice. Her sharp eyes take in Stiles in a way that makes him want to roll over and bare his throat. Instead he locks his jaw and stands tall, like she taught him all those years ago.

"Tell me, Mage."

"Kira lost control of her fox during a training session." He waits as his queen thinks.

"She needs to go to the skin-walkers."

"She does not want to go. Her life is here."

"We are not equipped to train her. Foxes can take decades to learn how to control their inner beasts, especially one as powerful as hers."

"She is one of us."

"She is a danger to us and herself. The first time she almost cut you in half with her sword."

"She is not allowed to practice with weapons any longer."

"And today she proved she does not need them. Is that correct?"

Stiles opens his mouth to continue his argument but Derek cuts him off. "Yes, she struck Stiles with her lighting."

His fingers curl slightly with irritation as Talia takes him in with a new emotion clouding her dark orbs – a motherly one. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"We will be stopping by Deaton's after this." Derek adds.

Talia pierces her lips. "I've made my decision. No more arguing. She will be going to the skin walker tomorrow." Stiles' heart stutters. "You will accompany her along with the prince and a guard of your choosing." Her words are finalized with a flash of red eyes.

Stiles wants to scream, to rage, but he contains it. What his queen, his alpha, says is final.

"Go now. Send Kira to me."

Stiles bows before turning on his heel and leaving. He doesn't speak as he makes his way to the healer even as Derek hisses his name a few steps behind. He enters the healing chambers, easily spotting the dark skinned druid squatting in front of the cot Kira is perched on. Boyd stands in the shadows keeping a close watch on the two.

Stiles clears his throat catching their attention as he approaches. Kira's young face brightens at the sight of him. "Stiles! Are yo-"

"The Queen wishes to see you." Her smile falls away. "I'm sorry." Its all he can say. He tried so hard to keep her here. Here with her mother, her friends, her people. But he failed her.

Kira nods slowly, eyes skittering to Boyd.

"He'll be going with us." Derek confirms.

The large wolf nods, leaving his spot among the shadows to wrap an arm around Kira's shoulders as she stands. He doesn't speak a word as he escorts her out of the healing chambers.

"What can I do for you, Mage Stiles?" Deaton says with a neutral voice, drawing Stiles' attention away from his friends.

"I was hit with lighting earlier. The royals believe I need you to look me over."

Derek says something under his breath but Stiles ignores him. He unclips his signature red cloak, quickly unbuttons the gods awful black tunic he is required to wear. If it were up to him he would choose something with a bit more color, even if it clashed with his cloak. Discarding the fabric on the cot he is left clothed in black fighting leathers and boots, chest bare.

He lets the druid approach as he examines himself. He doesn't see anything amiss. No blood, scratches, or scorch marks. He stands still while Deaton does his own examination.

The druid's fingers tap a still fresh tattoo on Stiles' left pec. "When did you get this?"

"A few days ago." He bites out. "Is my examination done?"

"Yes, Mage, all is well. Expect some soreness tomorrow." Deaton's eyes study him as if he's grown a tail. "I hope you realize that mark holds significance."

Stiles simply redresses himself inn response. "Thank you, Druid Deaton." He says before turning, red cloak billowing around him. He doesn't look at the prince as he passes him.

He had wanted to scoff at Deaton's question over his tattoo. Of course he knows the meaning. The triskele is the symbol of the royal family. Every Hale has it tattooed between their shoulder blades. Something they get at the age of 13. The royal guards have it tattooed on their left shoulders, soldiers on their right. Its not uncommon for most of the palace guards to have both their shoulders tattooed, like Boyd. Druids that claim loyalty to the Hales have the symbol on the back of their necks. Any commoner that pledges their undying loyalty will have it on their wrists. To have the triskele on the left pec…. well that represents the mate of a royal.

"Stiles, where are you going?" Derek hisses in his ear, fingers wrapping around his bicep.

Stiles doesn't stop walking, knowing that Derek won't use his superior strength to stop him – won't even use the strength of a human. "My room, I need to pack for our journey."

"But your things are in my rooms. Including your satchel and riding bags."

Stiles sighs, stopping at the junction of two hallways. Take a right and hell head toward the royal chambers that hold the queen's children. Take a left and he'll head to his own.

"Not everything." He whispers not meeting the prince's eyes.

"No, but most of it." The wolf steps in front of him, ducking his head to try to catch hi eyes. Finally he relents and meets the green orbs. Fingers ghost along his jaw making him huff, he can't say no to that face, to those eyebrows.

"Let me grab a few things from my room and I'll meet you in yours. I expect supper."

The prince's lips twitch slightly into a soft smile before they connect to Stile's cheek briefly. "I'll tell mother not to expect us tonight."

The mage watches him leave before continuing on to his room. He does not – does not scream when he opens his door to see someone lounging on is bed. The young woman raises a dark brow at him.

"Cora, what the hell are you doing in my room?" He is not breathing hard because she scared him.

"Hiding from Laura." She shrugs turning back to the book she was reading before Stiles interrupted.

"In my room?" He goes about gathering what he'll need.

"She doesn't think to look in here. Its not like you are I here much anymore anyway."

Well, the princess does have a point. Stiles can't remember the last time he even slept in here.

"Going somewhere?" She asks closing her book.

"Yes."

Cora sits up, eagerness clearly on her face. "Where to? The lake? I want to go there again."

"You just want to go to the lake to annoy the sirens."

"I don't annoy them. They love me."

"They want to eat you."

Cora sticks her tongue out at him. Causing him to laugh. "That's very unlady like."

She squints her dark eyes at him. Only Derek received the green eyes of the late King Andrew. The princess' inherited most of their looks from their mother. "What happened? You aren't normally in a bad mood."

The mage's shoulders sag. "We are taking Kira to the skin-walkers." And the soreness is already starting to set into his body.

"Something else happened?" She is on her feet before he can nod. "I have to speak with her." With inhuman speed the young wolf is bolting out of the room.

After gathering everything he needs, Stiles allows his tired feet to carry him to Derek's chambers. It's no surprise that the rooms are empty. The prince has other duties and it is a bit earl for supper. The cooks wont be happy to put a rush on their work.

He uses his time alone to prepare for their trip. He packs clothes for Derek and himself along with potions in the saddlebags. They'll get food tomorrow before they leave. He is sure to lay his twin blades onto the bags, though they are nothing compared to his own magic. But he was taught to rely on more then just his magic and he'll be sure to never let those lessons go to waste.

He doesn't turn when the doors to the bedroom open. "There is space for Boyd's clothes in the bags." He says since the two wolves will mainly be traveling in their fur.

Warm arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into a solid chest. "Are we going to discuss the reason you are in a foul mood?"

Stiles doesn't jerk away from Derek's breath next to his ear, but he does cross his arms. "You know why."

The wolf sighs, forehead coming to rest on Stiles' shoulder. "This is what is best, Stiles. She needs the training."

Stiles sags into the embrace. "I know. But that can take decades. We might be dead before she is dead worthy to return." Because that is the truth. Kira is having to say goodbye to everyone she knows and loves for she might not see them ever again.

"A fox's lifespan is incredible. Her mother is 900 years old if I'm not mistaken. It-"

"Her father is human. He'll be dead when she returns."

Derek's voice is softer when he speaks again. "Its part of it for them. I understand that its cruel but we have no other choice. This is the safest thing for all of us. You can't keep locking yourself in with her every time the fox takes over. You're going to get yourself killed."

A tear leaves Stiles eye. "I know. Doesn't mean I have to like this."

Derek squeezes him a little bit tighter. "I know. I don't like it either."

Stiles would call him a liar if he didn't know him. Derek might not know Kira well but she is part of his people. He cares deeply for his people and hates seeing them in any form of distress.

Turning, Stiles wraps his arms around his wolf, burying his face in his chest. They stay like that for several minutes. Holding each other, breathing one another in until Stiles stomach growls causing them both to chuckle softly.

"Come on. I brought food." The prince leads him out to the lounging area where he has laid out a small feast.

Stiles sinks into the cushioned couch, grabbing a plate and filling it. He starts to devour the food before Derek has even finished filling his own plate.

"Are you okay?" Derek asks halfway through their meal. Stiles glances up to see the wolf studying him. "You're stiff."

The mage hadn't noticed that he wasn't moving as freely as usual. He thought he was doing better at hiding the fact that his muscles felt like lead. "I'm sore."

"Finish your food."

Stiles easily follows his wolf's order and takes his hand when it held out to him after the empty plates have been discarded. Derek leads him into the bedroom, stopping next to the bed he unclasps Stiles' cloak taking care to lay it on the chair before returning to undress the rest of the mage, the clothing being thrown on the floor. Stiles doesn't question why he is wanted naked just moves when needed to help the process.

"Lay on the bed. On your belly."

He complies. Closing his eyes as he enjoys the cool feeling of silk against his flesh. Soon the weight of an equally naked Derek settles on his thighs. Oil drizzles onto his back. He can't keep the moan from passing his lips as large callused hands start to work the knots out of his muscles. Derek chuckles softly as his hands follow a familiar pattern.

Stiles takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his body relaxes even more. "Deaton saw the tattoo."

Derek hums. "Deaton saw the tattoo."

Stiles can't see his face but he can here the ease in his voice. "He might tell the queen."

"Mother already knows."

Stiles cranes his neck slightly so he can meet the prince's eyes. The wolf's hands stop as he raises an eyebrow.

"You told her?" He had only gotten the tattoo four days ago.

"Of course. She's eagerly waiting for us to take the final step. She likes you."

Stiles' heart thuds in his chest. Yes they've discussed this and he is fully committed (hence the tattoo), but to complete the mating is a very important thing. There will be no hiding their relationship then. Though Stiles is pretty sure they are already drenched in each other's scent.

"And when will you be giving me the bite, Sourwolf?"

Derek's eyes flash electric blue as a growl rumbles in his chest. "The next full moon. We will initiate the Chase. I'll catch you and make love to you under the moon." He leans down to nibble on Stiles' ear, sending a shiver down the younger man's spine. "Then I'm going to sink my teeth into you. Making you mine for the rest of our lives."

Stiles spins, arms wrapping around his wolf, pulling him into a bruising kiss. The hungry mood starts to turn lazy as their tongues explore each other mouths. They shift onto their sides, kissing slowing to sweet pecks. Derek kisses each of Stiles' cheeks and then his forehead. The mage's eyes start to become heavy and he doesn't fight to keep them open.

His wolf pulls him into his chest, their bodies curling around each other. "Sleep, Mischief. We have a long journey ahead of us."


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles is just finishing with re-checking their bags to make sure the have everything they need. When Kira approaches. Boyd had brought her few belonging that would be allowed with her down to the stables earlier, giving Kira nothing to worry about but her final goodbyes to her parents.

"We are only taking one horse?" The fox asks quietly as she takes in the large beast before her.

Stiles can't keep the proud grin off his face. "Roscoe is the best there is. She'll get us where we need to go."

He lovingly pats her flank. She was large for horse standards, could almost rival that of a draft horse, but she had the steady speed to her that would make a thoroughbred jealous. Jet black hide with streaks of baby blue in her mane, large gleaming black hooves, and intelligent eyes; to Stiles she was a beautiful creature and a strong friend.

"Are you sure she can carry both of us? She seems old."

"Hey, don't insult my baby. They grey on her muzzle is natural for a horse her age." The mage glares at his friend as he goes to scratch behind Roscoe's ear, soothing her from the insult.

"Do you know what you are looking at, Kira?" Boyd asks with a smirk. He had been just as skeptical of the horse when he first met her as well.

"No?" Kira frowns taking in Roscoe as if she's a new puzzle to solve.

"She's a shadow stallion; one of the last of her kind. She is among the few creatures that can transport other living beings across the border." Kira's mouth forms an 'O' as she looks a Roscoe with new understanding at Derek's words. "And since she is our only way to get you across the border, I suggest you be nice to her." Before the young fox can speak Derek is beside her, handing her a few sugar cubes.

With slow movements Kira makes her way to Roscoe's head and offers her the treat of forgiveness on a flat hand. The horse doesn't hesitate to nibble up the snack. Kira giggles as the stallion's lips at her palm for more.

"She's going to be okay, right? We aren't really heading anywhere safe."

Stiles is touched by the worry. "I won't let anything happen to her." He buries his nose in the stallion's neck, breathing her in. "Just like she didn't let anything bad happen to me all those years ago."

No one speaks of the night he is meaning. Even if Kira doesn't truly know she has an idea, just like most of the kingdom, on how an orphaned mage came to be I the company of the Royals.

"Are we ready?" Stiles asks breaking himself out of his memories.

When everyone nods Stiles pulls himself into the Roscoe's saddle, fixing his cloak before helping Kira up to settle behind him; her dark purple cloak clashing with his blood red fabric.

Stiles raises an eyebrow at Derek, "Are you going to shift, Sourwolf?"

The prince rolls his eyes though he can't hide his smile on his lips. He and Boyd disappear in a stable, seconds later two large wolves emerge. One a deep chocolate, the eyes the same dark coloring of Boyd's; the wolf with green orbs dons a pitch-black hide that seems to glisten in any lighting. Stiles loves Derek's wolf form. He is gorgeous as a man, but there is something breathtaking in the powerful grace of the beast.

Both wolves' eyes flash electric blue, telling him they are ready to go. With a soft nudge of his heel, Stiles urges Roscoe on. Her hooves are soft thuds on the dirt road leading from the stables to the woods, the wolves silent escorts beside them.

"I've never been to the border." Kira says softly after some time of riding in silence.

"No? Most make it a goal to make a trip to the border at least once in their youth."

"I hadn't been away from my village until I was brought to the castle."

Stiles stomach twists into knots. "And here we are making you leave again."

"Don't sound so bitter. I've made my peace with it. Its part of who I am. I need to learn to control this before I truly hurt someone. I need to learn how to keep my loved ones safe, no matter how long it takes." She wraps her arms around his waist, hooking her chin onto his shoulder. "Thank you for looking out for me." She says softly.

Stiles can only nod. If he were truly looking out for her he would have found another way.

"How many times have you been to the border?"

"Many. Its part of my duty to keep tabs on the border and the kingdoms beyond."

"So you've crossed the border several times?"

"No." He pauses, eyes catching on how Derek's ear twitches towards him. "Only once."

He has only ever discussed his experience twice. Once as a tearful child trying to explain everything through his terror to a very intimidating werewolf with a crown and one night he whispered the memory into his wolf's chest as strong arms held him tightly.

"Can you cross by yourself like most of the stories say?" Kira asks quietly.

Stiles shrugs. "Supposedly. All shadow walkers can cross the border on their own, but only a few creatures can truly navigate through the border. According to legend, mages have a sort of connection with the border."

"Druids can understand the forest, mages the border." Kira mutters.

"Yes, exactly. Most books about the mages say that. But legend is one thing and reality another. There aren't many of us out there, though. I've never even met another mage. I have no one to ask if the theory is true."

"Do you feel a connection to the border?"

Stiles is quiet. Every time he's been to the border he's always felt the shadows calling to him, caressing him as they invited him in. Standing on the edge was like being so close to breathing in fresh air, as if he knew everything would be so much clearer if he just took a step inside. He'd never gotten around to asking Derek what the border was like for him. Maybe he should after this trip.

Maybe he should stop being so afraid of the border.

"Stiles?"

He blinks not realizing he had been quiet for so long. "Yes?" He meets the green-orbed stare as Derek turns his head to him.

Yes, they will be discussing this sometime in the future.

* * *

It takes them three days to arrive at the border. They could have traveled through the shadows, but no one wanted to speed up the trip.

Roscoe picks up her pace as they near a wall of ever moving shadows that makes up the border. Hills line the black river that touches the clouds. They might have been mountains once, a mighty range that stretched across the land, but the shadows seem to have crushed them under their weight. Warping them into something just as ridged as the border's outline.

A hut sits at the base of one of the grassy peaks. Stiles has always been amazed with how dark and lush the grass is this close to the border. It wasn't just the grass; anything that grew near the border was always vibrant with life.

"A hut is allowed to be this close to the border?" Kira asks.

"Yes, its where a border guard lives."

Just like the other huts that are stationed along the border. All a calculated distance a part; far enough to cover as much ground as possible, but not to far to be able to see a great man-sized fire on top of a peak.

A man steps out of the hut, muscular chest on display as he dons only a pair of loose trousers. His smiles is as bright as his blonde hair gleaming in the sun-light.

"Parrish." Stiles calls in greeting.

"Stiles!"

A soft rumble emits from the black wolf at the cheerful greeting. Stiles rolls his eyes. "Don't be such a sourwolf. I've told you there is nothing to be jealous of." He admonishes causing Kira to giggle and Boyd to huff with amusement.

Derek bows his head, grumbling again as Parrish approaches.

"What brings you to the border? You visited no less then a month ago." He takes Roscoe's reins. Helping Stiles keep her steady as she paws at the ground.

Normally on his visits he lets the stallion roam the border to her delight. He isn't sure where she goes or what she does, but she is always back when he whistles for her.

"We are needing to escort Lady Kira to the desert. We'll be passing through today."

Parrish's blue eyes take in the fox seated behind him. She must flash her eyes for understanding passes Parrish's face.

"My name is Jordan Parrish. I'll be sure to welcome you home when the time is right, Lady Kira."

For the only creatures that could possibly live as long as a fox is a hellhound. The species also seems to have a peculiar way of passing important memories down to their offspring. As long as Parrish sires a child Kira will always be welcomed home at the border even if she outlives the hound before them. Though the memories can't be accessed until the child presents. The only way for a hellhound to present is to die and be reborn from the ashes. Stiles thinks it's a gruesome process even if none of the hellhounds seem to be bothered by their metamorphoses process.

Kira's arms tighten around Stiles' waist as Roscoe becomes antsier. Parrish seems to notice the wolves for the first time as his nostrils flare.

"My Prince." The hound bows his head towards Derek who flashes his eyes in acceptance. Parrish takes in everyone as if calculating something in his head then nodding to himself. "I will be on the look out for your return. Safe travels."

Parrish leads Roscoe to the edge of the black river like border; one step and they will enter the abyss. "Do you need me to guide you?"

Shaking his head, Stiles takes a deep breath before calling up his magic. He lets a rope of blue light slip from each hand. The magic snakes towards the wolves on either side of Roscoe, wrapping around their necks to create a loose collar and leash.

"What are you doing?" Kira questions.

"Like we discussed earlier, Derek and Boyd can cross through the border though they can not navigate it. From my understanding they won't even be able to track us once we are in the shadows. This keeps us connected so that we emerge in the same place on the other side." Stiles adjusts his grip on the reins, the magic still pulsing from his palms to hold the connection.

"They can not manipulate the border like shadows, but you can?"

"From what I've read its extremely difficult. It's easy to get lost in the border without a sense of direction. Some have entered and never emerged on either side. Lucky for us Roscoe knows what she's doing leaving me to focus on my magic so that doesn't become either of us." He nods to Parrish.

"Hold on tight." Is his only warning to the fox and wolves before the hellhound releases the reins and Roscoe is barreling forward. Kira squeak, fingers digging into Stiles' clothing as she clings to him.

His suspicions are right; it is like feeling his lungs with the freshest air – as if for the first time he's truly breathing. His eyes take in the darkness, takes in the fact that he can see in the darkness more clearly then any shadow he's experienced. He can see the hills, the grass. He can see to each hut lining this beautiful place; the river before them, the trees outcropping the Hunter kingdom, the fields of purple wolfsbane flowers in the Alpha territory. As if the border is allowing him to see through it. Allowing him to see everything it can.

Then Roscoe is leaping and they erupt into sunlight on the other side of the river. Stiles' chest seizes as he takes a breath of stale air. His heart hammers in his chest as his sight is taken from him by the dots dancing in his vision. He can't breathe – can't speak. Adrenalin races through his veins causing him to shake. He doesn't realize he's fallen out of the saddle until a pair of strong arms is jarring him as they catch him. Someone is speaking to him but he doesn't know what is being said.

He needs to breathe.

He can't breathe. Why can't he breathe?

Something soft and warm is being pressed against his lips. Lips. They were lips – familiar ones at that. When they leave him he is able to take in a shaky breath. Blinking away the dots Stiles takes in Derek's face hovering above him. He runs trembling fingers along the stumbled jaw; confirming that this is real and that his body is beginning to calm down.

"You were having a panic attack." The wolf whispers.

Stiles can see the worry in his eyes. "Yes." He breathes.

"You haven't had one of these for years."

Not since the short months after his arrival in the Shadow Realm; the days where he could barely function without seizing into a breathless fit.

With help from Derek, Stiles manages to pull himself into a sitting position.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Kira asks as she climbs off Roscoe.

Boyd shifts to grab the stallion's reins before she can wander off.

"Stiles." Derek ducks his head to catch the mage's eyes again. "Can you tell us what happened?"

He swallows thickly. "I could see everything. Everything the border touches, everything in the border. I could feel it. It was like…. Coming up from the bottom of a lake and breaching the surface." His eyes fall onto the border. "Then we were here and it was like I was a candle being snuffed out."

He takes in Derek's expression. Waiting for the worry to turn into fear, fear of him – of what he can apparently do. But it doesn't. The worry remains, though it softens a bit.

"This didn't happen before?"

Slowly Stiles shakes his head. "I wasn't focusing on the border before."

Green orbs take him in again. "We are camping here for the night."

"What? No. This isn't the Shadow Realm. We aren't safe here and its only noon."

"Stiles, you just had a panic attack. You need to rest. We'll make camp here close enough to the border if we need to run. I promise we'll leave by first daylight."

Stiles opens his mouth to argue but Boyd's soft words cut him off. "There is no need to rush."

The mage's whiskey orbs flicker to Kira who stands tall with her lips pierced, not looking at any of them. Prolonging their trip one more night wouldn't hurt them.

With a sigh he settles more into his sitting position. "Fine. We'll camp here for tonight." His eyes roam over the prince's body. "Time for you to put some clothes on."

Kira gasps as if she is just now discovering that the two very attractive werewolves are buck-ass nude. The wolves are quick to grab a pair of undershorts from the saddlebags and slip them on. Once they are covered they begin the task of unstrapping everything from Roscoe. Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles, who is still sitting in his soft patch of grass, silently asking what to do with the reins.

"Go ahead and free her. I'll call her in the morning."

Once the stallion is bare she takes off towards the border, clearing the river in one mighty leap.

The three weres get to work at setting up camp. They hadn't brought a tent; only the essentials. If the weather turns bad they will have to find shelter. Taking them farther away from the safety of the border.

Derek unrolls Stiles' bedroll next to his own gesturing for Stiles to join him once he sits.

"Kira and I are going to go hunting for supper." Boyd speaks just as Stiles settles between Derek's legs.

Derek hums pulling Stiles back to lean against his chest. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. I promise. It was just…. overwhelming."

"I wish there were more mages out there so that you could speak with them. To learn more about this spark inside you."

"If only my kind hadn't been hunted to near extinction. I find it ironic that my own people is to blame."

"I wouldn't call the riders your people."

"But they are. Mages that fell into dark corrupted ways, they became so sick on power their magic turned green. They needed more, wanted more, and the way to get that was by draining the magic from other mages." Derek wraps his arms around Stiles as the younger man loses himself in his rambling. "They say the riders still live. That they've whipped out villages so thoroughly that we can't even remember them. All in their quest to hunt down the few mages that are left. They'll kill anything in their way. Won't rest until they have what they are hunting."

Derek nuzzles his neck. "They haven't come for you."

Stiles tilts his head giving Derek more access to his neck. "They've not set their sites on me yet. They won't until they are done hunting the poor souls they target before me. Who knows I might be next."

"I don't believe so. There hasn't been a single whisper of the riders for decades."

Stiles turns his head. "Did you not hear about the destroying whole villages part? There wouldn't be any witnesses to spread whispers." The wolf huffs, opening his mouth to say something but Stiles speaks again. "What did you see?"

"What?"

"While we were traveling through the border."

The prince frowns. "Nothing. I couldn't see, hear, or smell anything. With shadows I know where I am, where I'm going. I can track through them with sight and smell. I can see the lighted gateways of places to emerge from. But the border cut off all my senses. It was actually quiet unnerving. If I hadn't felt your magic around my neck I could have easily been lost."

Stiles turns until his legs are on either side of Derek's hips. The wolf curls his own legs in, as if trying to hold Stiles in a nest of limbs. "I will never allow you to be lost."

Derek's smile is brighter then the sun. He leans in, lips softly grazing Stiles' own. The mage wastes no time in burying his fingers in dark locks, pulling the wolf closer.

Why hadn't he allowed Derek to fuck him at least once the night before they left? Why hadn't he even tried to ride his wolf to completion? Because this was everything.

Hips grinding, clothed cocks grazing, tongues exploring on another, yes this is everything Stiles will ever need.

Derek breaks away. Leaving them both panting with glazed eyes. "We can't. Not here. Boyd and Kira are bound to return any moment with meat for supper."

"Then we find somewhere we can."

"And make them worry where we've gone?" He smiles seductively as he leans in to nibble at Stiles' ear. "I promise that when we return I will thoroughly fuck you into my bed. Make sure you won't be able to leave my room for a week."

A moan leaves Stiles' throat as his hips jerk at the thought.

"No! Stop it right now!" Boyd growls as he emerges from the woods, a deer slung over his shoulder. Kira's face a bright red as she looks anywhere but at Derek and Stiles.

With a frustrated groan Stiles climbs out of Derek's lap and begins to prepare a fire. He most certainly does not acknowledge his tease of a lover as they prepare the deer and cook a hardy meal. What they don't cook is properly wrapped and packed in the saddlebags.

While they are eating Stiles notices Kira staring at him. "What is it?"

"Your cloak. It didn't change with the rest of our clothing."

The mage takes in the fabric surrounding them for the first time. The fox was right. Everything was black. No matter what the true color had been while in the Shadow Realm, it had all turned the color of night. The cloak around Kira's shoulders – that was a type of black that seemed to eat any light that touched it. Yet Stiles' cloak remained a brilliant red.

"It was made from the fibers of a nemeton, like all true cloaks are. But it was made before the border – before the day one of the oldest nemeton was cut down. That day changed everything, from the creatures that lived in the Shadow Realm to the very things made there. Our clothes will change to the color of shadows. A mage's magic will only reveal its true color when they are on the right side of the border. Every shadow wolf will be born with blue eyes instead of the typical gold of others. Every creature that belonged to the Shadow Realm has something about them that sets them a part from the people this side of the border." He lets his fingertips dance with his magic. The once brilliant blue color is now a formidable black. "It's a way to tell our people where they belong. To tell them where they are safe. To tell them where their home is."

"How did you come to find your cloak? I thought all possessions before the border were lost by now."

"It has been passed down in my family since the first mage appeared in our bloodline. My mother gave it to me before…."

Derek's hand finds its way onto his knee, squeezing gently. He has always encouraged Stiles to be more open about his past, but it was hard.

After a few beats of silence Kira asks, "Do you think my lightening has changed color?"

Stiles can see the real question in her eyes. 'Do I belong in my own home?' He smiles softly at her. "I fully believe it has, though I suggest you not try it."

She giggles softly, relief on her face. The rest of the night passes peacefully.

At daybreak Stiles whistles for Roscoe. Within seconds she is bounding up to them. Once everything is strapped into place, Stiles and Kira are seating themselves in the saddle and the wolves are shifted beside them. They follow the river northwest; to the desert behind Hunter borders.

* * *

_**A/N: **_Well I hope you are enjoying the story so far. I will do my best to have weekly uploads but I make no promises. Until Next Time.


	3. Chapter 3

"I like traveling through shadows much better then the border." Kira says after their third shadow walk.

They've made tremendous progress throughout the day. Weaving within the shadows of the bushes and trees along the river. They didn't want to speed up the trip, but they didn't want to linger on this side of the border. They stand out. Their clothes, their abilities, even the wolves stand out. There is no distinguishing the two by coat color anymore. Both wolves have thick black locks that gleam and devour light with every move of muscle. It almost seemed as if they were living shadows.

It would be easy for someone to figure out that they didn't belong.

It made Stiles uneasy, he knew all to well how people of this side of the border can react to those who don't belong.

"Is this it?" Kira speaks again. Across from the river is a vast expansion of sand and heat. "I can feel it from here."

She's right. Stiles cheeks burn from the hot wind racing towards them. "This is it."

The mage takes a deep breath before dismounting. He holds his hand out, griping Kira's fingers tightly to help her down. He doesn't let go of her when her feet are steady on the ground. The fox doesn't say anything, only holds him just as tight.

The wolves shift, slipping on undershorts before joining the two. Kira's almond eyes sweep over them, tears disturbing the dark orbs.

"You will always be welcomed at the castle. Whether it is us or our children, you will have a place among the royal guard. I'll be sure of it." Derek says with a watery smile.

Kira returns the expression. "Thank you, Prince."

Boyd clears his throat, stepping up until he was in front of the fox. "You are not my friend, but my sister. Know that you will always have a bed and warm meal in the house of a Boyd." His dark eyes spill tears. "I'm going to miss you."

Kira sobs as she throws herself at the big man. The wolf doesn't hesitate to wrap large arms around her. He buries his nose in her hair. Scenting her for one last time. When they pull away neither of their cheeks are dry.

"I am going to miss you too, Vernon." The fox turns to Stiles who nods.

She gathers her few belongings from the saddlebags before holding her hand out to Stiles. The mage takes it walking her to the edge of the river.

"Do not rush your training. Take as long as you need to. We will always be your family, no matter how much time passes."

"Thank you. I'm going to miss you too."

Stiles' stomach twists. "You will never be forgotten."

Across the river three figures appear as if they had crawled out of the sand. They are wrapped in furs and war paint. They don't open their mouths to speak. There is no need to. They know who is here and why. The skin-walkers have always trained the foxes, even before the border if legend is to be believed.

Stiles places a kiss on Kira's cheek before he releases her hand. Gathering his magic he created a solid bridge of dark light, black smoke, and wind.

With a heavy sigh, Kira straightens her shoulders, holds her chin high and begins to walk across the bridge. When she reaches the sand, Stiles lets his magic fade. Two large bodies bracket him as he watches the four figures.

Kira turns her head, looking at them one last time before they disappear.

Gone. They're just gone.

Stiles can't tell if they sunk into the sand or were swept away by the wind.

"Tell me this was the right thing." He says slowly. Eyes not leaving the spot he last saw the fox even as it made them burn.

"As much as I hate it, it needed to be done. She needs this training." Boyd's voice is rough with tears.

"She will return one day. This is not her home." Derek says softly.

"I just hope we are able to see her return." With a final look, Stiles turns his back onto the desolate place. "Let's head back."

The wolves don't speak as they slip off their undershorts and shift. Stiles mounts Roscoe and urges her into the closest shadow. When they emerge they are not along the riverbed any longer but deeper in the forest. Stiles takes in the trees around them, something about this seeming familiar.

"Stiles, why are we here?" Derek asks next to his knee.

"I don't know. Roscoe brought us here." He nudges her with his heel wanting to see what is up ahead.

A road.

A road he knows. If they turn right they will head to a place he hasn't seen in years. A place he never thought he would see again.

"Stiles?" The mage doesn't even glance at the prince as he steers Roscoe onto the road – towards the direction that will lead them to one of the largest villages in the free lands.

"Stiles!" Derek barks, hands gripping Roscoe's reins. Stopping her from taking another step. Whiskey orbs meet concerned green. "Tell me what is going on."

"I know this place." The wolf must be able to meaning in his words, on his face for his features soften. "Please." The younger man whispers.

Derek's lips thin as he stares down the path ahead of them. Stiles can't explain it, but he needs this. He needs to see what the village has become.

"We stay for a drink. We do not speak to anyone. We do not go in too deeply. Understood?" Those memorizing eyes flash blue in warning.

"Thank you." He goes to nudge Roscoe forward but Derek stops him again.

"Wait. Change cloaks." The wolf quickly helps him fold the blood red fabric and tuck it into a saddlebag, handing him a spare black cloak (Stiles is thankful he had packed one) to clasp around his neck. "Boyd and I will change before we enter. Roscoe will stay in the forest."

Stiles nods. Not questioning Derek's unease as he bites out instructions. They'll talk about it later. With one last assessing looks, Derek shifts back into his fur.

Stiles pulls his hood over his head, hiding his face from anyone who might pass them. His heels gently tap Roscoe's side. The stallion doesn't hesitate to move into a trot, as if she herself wants to return to the place they both once called home. The wolves bracket him, each keeping their rotating in every direction. Their eyes shine blue as they open their senses fully, trying to detect any danger that might be out there.

At the sight of the first house Stiles steers Roscoe off the road and deep into the cover of the trees. He dismounts, tying Roscoe to a sturdy low hanging branch. His mind is a thousand miles away as the wolves change and quickly dress; once the two wolves also have their faces hidden under their hoods, Stiles starts to head back to the road.

Fingers tangle with his, gripping him tightly. Stiles squeezes Derek's hand in reassurance. His heart is pounding in his eats as their boots crunch on the dirt road.

There is nothing extraordinary about the first house or the next or the next. Even as the buildings become start to become closer together as if they were growing into one another, it all seems mundane - nothing stands out or screams otherworldly. But it all takes Stiles' breath away. Even the people, though they stare and give the three a wide berth. Stiles tries to take in every new face he sees, hoping that he might see a familiar one.

"Here." Boyd says, leading them inside a tavern with a sign hanging over the door that read 'The Smiling Wolf'.

Voices stilled as they take an empty table.

"Would either of you like to explain where we are?" Boyd keeps his voice low. Stiles isn't sure if there are any super-human ears listening in or if it would even matter.

"Beacon Hills. One of the largest villages of the Free Folk." Stiles eyes track the blonde headed woman behind the bar.

She lifts a panel, moving out behind the bar – skirts sweeping across the floor. Her neck line doesn't leave much to the imagination, though the mage's eyes are drawn to her lips, painted a bright red, as she plasters on a smile that shows off slightly sharpened canines. Chocolate eyes take them in as she approaches.

"How may I help you?" She purrs, eyes flashing gold.

"We'll have your finest ale." Stiles purrs back.

The she-wolf nods, hips swaying as she heads back to the bar. A quiet growl rumbles from the wolf to Stiles' right.

He arches his eyebrow though it can't be seen. "Easy, Boyd."

Derek chuckles softly. "She'll eat you alive. There is no doubt about it."

Boyd doesn't seem to hear them as he watches the she-wolf move around behind the bar. Stiles turns towards Derek, wishing he could see his wolf's face in the shadows of the hood. So he can read the expression of the eyebrows. The prince seems to understand, his hand snaking out to grasp his.

"What does she smell like?" Derek asks.

"Everything." Boyd breathes.

Stiles' jaw drops, head snapping back to Derek. "Isn't that what you said about me?"

His wolf nods.

Shit.

Before he can speak again the she-wolf is returning with three mugs of ale. Her painted smile is only directed at Boyd, nostrils flaring.

The door opening distracts them all.

The she-wolf snarls at who has entered. "Out, Theo."

"You'll serve them but not me? Come on, Erica, you're better then that."

The she-wolf, Erica, snarls again. "They don't annoy the piss out of me. Now out. Before I show you out." Her growl is echoed by Boyd's.

Stiles turns his head ever so slightly and freezes.

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea.

Fingers squeeze his but all he can do is stare at the were-coyote in the doorway. He's aged, yet Stiles can still recognize who stands in the doorway easily especially with knowing his name. He doesn't know what he was expecting by returning but it was not this. Without a word he is out of his chair and stepping into the nearest shadow.

He fills his lungs with fresh air when he steps into the forest, Roscoe only feet away. In a heartbeat the wolves have joined him.

"I'm sorry. We should have never gone there." He babbles, knocking his hood off as he runs a hand through brown locks.

Callused hands cup his face, green eyes taking him in. "That was him wasn't it."

He swallows before nodding. "He wasn't who I was hoping to see."

Because it had been 10 years. 10 years since he last saw any of his family, his friends from the village. He had hoped to have glimpsed them, heard a whisper about them, to learn that they were alive. He had not expected to see the one that had betrayed him, that had caused so much grief.

"This was your village." Boyd's words aren't a question.

"I'd never thought I'd see it again." He takes a deep breath. "Let's go home."

* * *

It takes them less then two days to return to the castle. The border crossing hadn't been anywhere near as overwhelming for Stiles had turned his senses off. Closed his eyes and only focused on the hum of his magic as Roscoe guided them through.

That night as he fell asleep in the prince's bed, he dreams.

_He couldn't help the way his stomach turned. He'd been nervous ever since he had shown Theo his magic. _

_He had been playing with Scott, making smoke appear and disappear through his fingers when the young were-coyote had approached. Stiles had immediately stopped their game of peek-a-boo, but Scott had encouraged him on. _

_Theo was the wolf's friend, he trusted him. If Stiles' best friend trusted the boy, shouldn't he as well?_

_So he had continued the game. _

_Three days later Stiles' young body still hummed with nerves. _

_"Come, Mischief. Time for bed." His mother, his amazingly kind and beautiful mother, leads him to bed. Tucking him in with a kiss to his forehead._

_His father stands in the doorway, a smile on his handsome face. "Goodnight, kiddo."_

_His parents leave him to sleep._

_He isn't sure how long he is able to lay there in peace before his mother is shaking him awake. "Wake up, Mischief." She whispers harshly. "We need to go."_

_He has barely blinked the sleep from his eyes before he is being pulled from his bed. A heavy cloak is pulled around his shoulders, it's a too big for him, most of the heavy material dragging in the ground as his mother leads him through the cottage with a tight grip on his hand. _

_The final fuzziness of sleep leaves him as his mother unlocks their back door. "Mo-"_

_"Shh, Mischief. I need you to be very quiet." The woman whispers. _

_Stiles snaps his mouth shut. Something is wrong. _

_His mother eases the door open, head poking out as she looks every which way before tugging Stiles out behind her. The moon lights their way to the forest where Roscoe's stables are. _

_"Stay." His mother commands before she quickly gets to work saddling and harnessing the giant stallion. _

_A twig snaps causing Stiles to spin around. His eyes land on Theo, the were-coyote dressed in his normal brown attire. Before Stiles can question why the boy is there, Theo is opening his mouth. _

_"They're here! Over here!" He shouts, breaking the peaceful quietness of the night._

_Stiles is yanked up and thrown onto the saddle, he barely has time to righten himself before his mother is seating herself behind him and kicking at Roscoe's sides. The stallion takes off but her hoof beats are soon joined by others. Again his mother kicks at Roscoe, urging her on._

_Stiles squeezes his eyes shut as they speed towards a tree cloaked in shadow. _

_He feels the change in the air, the feeling of being free of everything that weighs you down while in the light. Then he is breathing in the forest air again._

_He opens his eyes._

_His mother had first taught him how to shadow walk with him securely on Roscoe's back. Taught him how the world felt, how to see everything while in the dark. She had just started teaching Stiles how to travel through shadow on his own two feet. It's going slowly because Stiles can't break the habit of shutting his eyes before entering a shadow. _

_He knows this a skill only he, his mother, and Roscoe possessed. Yet, several hooves thundered around them. _

_"They're shadow traveling!" A man calls out from somewhere among the trees on their right._

_"Faster, Roscoe!" His mother rasps. _

_They leap into another shadow._

_When they emerge Stiles' mother wraps his small hands around Roscoe's reins. "No matter what happens you do not let go." She speaks in his ear._

_More shouts and the sound of horses ring out ahead of them. _

_"We are going to our people. We are going to our home." _

_They jump through freeing air again._

_"No matter what, we do not stop until we reach the castle. We will find sanctuary with the Hales."_

_Stiles can hear the river roaring up ahead. It's almost loud enough to drown out the sound of the men chasing them. Stiles' breath catches when he see what lies before them. _

_The border._

_They were racing to it. No sign of slowing._

_The young mage hears a whistling sound, as if something was cutting through the air. The sound of a thud in his ears is almost as sickening as his mother's weight crashing into him as she lurches forward._

_"Don't stop. Make it to the Hales." His mother's voice is wet with every breath. "I love you, Mischief."_

_Then her weight is falling away, arms releasing him, fingers brushing against him._

_When Roscoe leaps over the river and into the border, Stiles is the only rider in the saddle._

Stiles jerks awake.

"Shhh, you're okay. Its just a dream." His wolf breathes into his hair as he holds Stiles' shaking body tightly. "I've got you."

A sob escapes Stiles. Derek's arms tighten just a little bit more.

He always reacts like this after this particular nightmare – this memory. It had all been real. It had happened.

Once he was past the border everything was a blur. He doesn't even know how he had found himself in the courtyard in the midst of a panic attack while trying to tell Queen Talia Hale what had happened. Only after he had calmed down had he realized the red cloak he wore was his mother's.

"It was him."

"I know."

"He betrayed us. He's the reason she's dead." He inhales a shaky breath. "I just wanted to see if I could discover anything about my father. To see if he is alive or if he died that night too."

"We'll return one day. We'll find him. I promise."

Stiles nods, still clinging to his wolf as he shuts his eyes against the tears. "I love you, Sourwolf."

"I love you too, Mischief."

_**A/N: **_Yay, another chapter is up! Yes I typed this instead of looking for rentals. Love reading y'alls reviews so continue to let me know what you think. Until Next time!


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles blew out a breath of air as he shook out his hands. Why was he so nervous? He wanted this. Had been ready for this since the first time he fell into the prince's bed. There was no one else for him.

"Calm down." A voice chuckles.

Stiles turns to find Laura leaning in his doorway. "What if I mess something up?"

The princess rolls her eyes. "You are not going to mess anything up."

"There are traditions."

"And how you go about doing those traditions is completely up to you and Derek."

The mage narrows his eyes at her. The mating ceremony could be done on any given night, in their bed if they so wished, but _tradition_ called for it to be held on the night of the full moon and to initiate the chase. Instead of arguing he takes a deep breath, eyes wandering around the mostly bare room.

"You will still be able to hide in here until we find someone else to take up the space." Laura says as she too takes in the room.

"I do not hide." His words holding a stubborn bite.

"Stiles, you have hidden in here more then ever since you returned from escorting Kira. I don't believe that will suddenly stop after tonight."

He can't deny that she's right. After returning from the border he practically buried himself in research on the border. Trying to discover why he reacted to the place like he did. But his searches have given him no more information on the border or mages. It's almost hopeless unless he goes back to the border and learns from first hand experience. That of which… he's just not ready for.

Laura enters the room; hands coming up to lightly rest of Stiles' shoulders. Probably the only place she dares leave her scent tonight. "I don't know what happened during your travels, but I do know we will figure it out, as a family." A grin spreads across her face. "Now as for tonight all you need to focus on is that Derek loves you and you love him. As long as you two do what feels right you will be upholding our tradition perfectly."

Stiles nods, taking another deep breath.

"Now are you ready?"

Looking down at himself he takes in his bare chest, proudly showcasing his mating tattoo, and pair of loose sleep pants – the same color of red as his cloak neatly folded on the bed. He doesn't have on undershorts, not wanting to have too many clothes to peel off when he is caught.

Yes he is ready. Ready to make it official.

"Yes."

Laura raises an eyebrow, dark eyes swooping down his body and lingering. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Laura. I am sure!" He bites out, cheeks heating at her question.

His future sister-in-law chuckles as she turns to lead the way out of the room and to the courtyard.

When his bare toes meet the grass, Stiles takes in the amount of people gathered for the ceremony.

"Almost everyone from the village is here." He breathes.

Laura hums. "Along with several lords and ladies from across the realm."

A massive fire has been erected in the middle of the tents, tables, and bodies. People of all species danced to the beat of drums around the extravagant light. Other instruments joined in to fill the night air with celebration.

The smell of food surrounds Stiles as he wades through the delightful chaos. Villagers are quick to clear a path for him. Their smiles, laughter, joy only seem to grow at the sight of him. Though he did notice a few distant looks of dismay.

He knew why he received the icy glares. Though Derek has always had eyes for Stiles, he had been publically single. Now any hope of stealing the gorgeous wolf away from a simple 'affair' will be shattered tonight.

Steady arms wrap around his waist, putting a stop to his wandering. The mage smiles as he leans against the solid warmth behind him. "Hello, Prince."

Derek chuckles, teeth nipping at his ear. "Stiles."

He can't keep the purr of contentment in his chest, "Its mage."

"And I thought we've made it past formalities."

Stiles turns in his mate's arms. The prince is just as bare as he is, though his sleep pants are black. A vile hangs around his neck. Stiles can't help but blush at the sight of it.

Derek's fingertips brush along the flesh of his face. "No need to be embarrassed. They all know where this night is going to lead."

Stiles rolls his eyes before turning his head to see the movement behind him. He gives his wolf a smile. "Dance with me?"

"Of course."

The prince tangles his fingers with Stiles', leading him into the fray of swirling bodies and billowing skirts around the fire. Their feet move in a familiar pattern, bodies twisting and turning with one another to the beat of the music. Stiles can't rid the smile from his face, not when Derek's own is gleaming brightly at him. They move with one another until they are both covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Derek pulls him away from the dancing and guides him to a log to sit on. The prince kisses the top of his head before disappearing among the tents. He's not gone long, returning with two plates of food. The wolf settles between the mage's legs, passing him a plate. Stiles is quick to scarf down his food. Discarding his plate to the side, he uses nibble fingers to steal small bites from Derek's plate. His wolf growls half-heartedly at every piece taken. Though, when Stiles is able to snatch away a large piece of meat, Derek snaps his teeth at the offending fingers as a true growl rumbles in his chest. The mage is quick to drop the meat back onto the plate, burying his nose under Derek's jaw – asking for forgiveness.

He waits until the prince huffs before kissing the skin down Derek's neck, tongue flicking across the smooth skin every now and then. Teeth teasing at the area he'll leave a mating bite later tonight. Derek's breath hitches, turning his head slightly – baring his neck even more to the younger man.

A soft groan leaves Stiles as he continues the exploration of familiar skin. His hips move in a dirty grind against Derek's muscular back. His breath hitches along with the prince's when his cock starts to harden with the motion. The wolf leans more fully into him, allowing him to take his pleasure.

His long fingers tangle into thick black locks as the others trail along Derek's chest. He doesn't care that everyone can see them. In fact, he takes pride at knowing others are watching, that they are seeing that Prince Derek Hale is his with or without the bite.

"Stiles." His wolf breathes.

Fuck, his name on Derek's tongue is intoxicating, especially when he says it like _that. _His teeth snag on Derek's earlobe.

"Stiles." Derek warns with a breathy moan.

The mage leans away from his prince, gulping in fresh air. His eyes blink up at the clear night above. The brightness of the stars is dulled by the heavy full moon climbing high into the sky.

"Its time." He murmurs.

Derek lies back against him. Stiles kisses the top of his head but doesn't take his eyes away from the moon. After a few minutes of silence between the two Derek speaks.

"Now its time." Without a second thought Derek stands, pulling Stiles up with him.

The crowd around them becomes quiet.

Stiles' fingertips trail along his wolf's cheeks, his lips. He grins when teeth nip at his flesh. "Are you ready?" Derek nods, green orbs darkening with lust. "Good."

A puff of smoke is quick to encase the prince as Stiles turns and runs. Cheers fill the night air as he flings himself towards the forest. Just as he breaches the trees a howl rings out causing his heart to skip a beat.

The chase is for the wolves, to call to their instincts on finding a mate. It wasn't meant to affect Stiles in any significant way, yet a thrill zings through his body at the feeling of being chased by his mate.

Arousal thrums in his veins as he weaves around trunks and dodges branches. The full moon illuminates the forest for him. He can't help but moan when he catches a glimpse of dark fur racing beside him. He wants to make his wolf work for it, but he also wants to be caught, claimed, and fucked until he can't move.

He doesn't have long to ponder over his decision before two strong arms are wrapping around him. His feet leave the ground and they go rolling into a meadow. Lips crash into his as his blunt nails dig into the meat of Derek's shoulders.

"Derek." He breathes as a tongue breaches the seam of his lips.

The wolf pulls back just enough to look at the mage. The prince's chest is heaving, his skin shining in the moonlight giving his muscles a type of glow that makes Stiles' mouth water. Honey-suckle eyes meet electric blue as Derek's fingers roam down Stiles' sweat slick torso. Claws snag on red fabric, hooking around the waistband as they easily slide the sleep pants down. As soon as the clothing is around his ankles, Stiles is kicking it off. Leaving himself bare to his mate.

They both moan as their bare cocks slide against one another. They rut against one another, lips roaming, fingers digging into skin. Derek's claws trail down Stiles' back, sharp points shifting back to blunt nails before dipping between the younger man's cheeks. The prince groans as his digits sink into slick heat.

Stiles had been sure to keep himself prepped majority of the day, even coating his well-stretched hole thoroughly with the scentless oil they like so much before donning his red sleep pants.

Stiles smiles up at his wolf. _Fuck_, He is gorgeous. "Mate me, Sourwolf."

The snarl that leaves Derek's chest had the mage breaking out in goose bumps. Stiles' knees are lifted; he instinctively wraps them around the older man's hips. Derek takes the oil off his neck using it to slick up his length. The prince lines himself up and slowly starts to sink into his mate.

Stiles throw his head back with a moan, exposing the full length of his pale neck. Derek scrapes his teeth across the soft skin there as he pulls out and slowly thrusts back in. Once meets no resistance its like a dam breaks.

With a growl his features become more beast like, claws pricking at Stiles' thighs, fangs sinking into the place where his neck and shoulder meet – almost hard enough to break skin. Stiles knows Derek's eyes must be flaring bright as hi hips pound into him. Every other thrust hitting that sweet spot inside him. All Stiles can do is hold on for the ride.

His nails leave scratches down Derek's back that quickly heals. His breath starts to catch in his throat as his orgasm approaches.

"De-Derek." He gasps.

The wolf nods, thrusts becoming erratic. With a final hard thrust, Derek buries his fangs into Stiles' as he moans, spilling his seed inside his mate.

Stiles whole world lights up as his vision flashes with stars. He can feel it, the part of him that is carving out a spot for his mate – creating a bond that can never be broken as long as they both live.

When Stiles comes back to himself Derek is licking at the mating mark lazily. The mage realizes his stomach is covered in his drying release. Derek pulls back, bright green eyes blinking down at him, his features more human now.

With slow movements, Derek stretches his chin up, tilting his head back. Stiles does not hesitate to lean up and bury his teeth into his mate's exposed throat. Copper fills his mouth as he tightens his jaw just a little more. When he releases his grip he laves his tongue over the mark, sending his magic into the wound to insure that it becomes permanent.

He lies back in the grass, smiling up at his mate. _Mate._ They were officially mates now. Running his fingers through sweaty locks, he chuckles when Derek nuzzles his cheek.

"My love. My mate. My wolf." The mage says hoarsely.

"My love. My mate. My world."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "You always have to outdo me, Sourwolf."

Derek flashes his teeth in a smile. "Of course, life would not be fun if I didn't make you at least try to be as good as me."

"I am just as good as you in so many ways." He waggles his eyebrows causing his wolf to bellow out a laugh.

He kisses his cheek, joy still vibrating in his chest. "You are amazing. The best there is, Mischief."

Stiles hums burrowing into Derek's warmth. "You are mine forever."

"I've always been yours."

Stiles leans back to squint at his mate. "What about Paige."

The prince rolls his eyes. "Paige was a sweet girl that needed a friend. She was also just a way to make you jealous."

The mage's frown deepens. "That is not nice."

"It was her idea. Which worked just as she said it would." Stiles huffs, blowing air into Derek's face. "I would not have needed to try so hard if you weren't so set on remaining formal friends. I had to do something."

"You are the prince. I thought you deserved better. Someone that could bare you children."

"You are my mate, Stiles. The only one for me. You could be male or female, wolf or human, magic or not, you will always be the one for me. Our souls are bound to one another, in this world and the next."

Stiles heart seems to grow in his chest. "I didn't know you could say anything so beautiful." Derek snaps his teeth at him playfully. "Well I am very happy you are the one for me. I love you, Sourwolf."

"I love you too, Mischief."

They lean in to share a kiss, but before their lips meet Derek's head snaps up as he stares in the direction that leads to the castle.

"Derek, what is it?"

"Something's wrong." The prince rises to his feet, holding his hand down to help stiles up.

The mage hisses at the soreness between his legs as he tries to steady himself on wobbly legs. He would have loved a reminder of Derek fucking him if he didn't feel like something terrible was about to happen.

A clap of thunder has him looking up at the moon, which has dark clouds working to cover it - clouds that are rolling in at an unnatural rate. Lightening flashes causing Stiles blood to run cold. He knows what that color of lightening means. Has studied everything he can about the monsters that ride the green lightening.

"Derek." He breathes, but the wolf is already shifting and leaping into the nearest shadow. "Shit."

Stiles scrambles to pull on his sleep shorts ignoring the soreness. Once the waistband is secure around his hips he is sprinting into a shadow.

When he emerges into the light of the giant fire, he is struck with the panicked chaos. Screaming children, fearsome snarls, demonic whining of horses creates a drowning sympathy in Stiles' ears.

The riders are mounted on shadow stallions, but they're sick. Their breath is a puff of green smoke; their hooves and hide leak a green liquid that is as thick as blood. The riders seem just as sick; skin dry and stretched thinly across bones, giving them the appearances of corpses. Their mouths are sewed shut, eyes nothing but glowing green orbs sunken into their skull. They wore tick leathers and broad hats that couldn't be disturbed from their perch on long stringy hair. They wore swords on their hips, yet the weapons in their hands are wipes – nasty weapons that are coated in dark magic, making them more of an extension of their power instead of an object.

Stiles watches as the monsters tear through the crowd that had gathered for a celebration. Wipes snapping, blood spraying. The riders are killing his people.

He whistles with magic that only calls one to him. He knows why the riders are here, knows why they are tearing into his people.

He knows what he has to do.

His eyes catch onto rippling muscle as a large black wolf leaps at a rider; maw opened wide, fangs and claws gleaming. He's beautiful with his fury, but Stiles breath catches as he watches the rider's arm snap, wipe following the motion.

The mage doesn't realize he's screaming his mate's name. Doesn't feel his throat turn raw with the strain of it. Now while he watches the wipe slice into his wolf's hide, flinging the prince onto the ground with the force a weapon like that shouldn't possess.

Even from this distance Stiles can see the blood pouring out of Derek. There is so much of the red life force staining the ground.

The wolf does not rise.

Stiles' heart cracks as he feels a throb through their fresh bond. He doesn't know what it means – the bond is still too new for him to understand it.

Hooves paw on the ground next to him, drawing his attention to Roscoe. He doesn't hesitate to climb onto her bare back, twisting his fingers into her thick mane.

His people are suffering, his mate is dying, and he knows how to stop it. The mage doesn't look at Derek; he cannot bare it if he sees a chest that no longer rises. His hair whips wildly as he creates a crown of smoke, air, and light as he makes himself a beacon to the monsters hunting him.

The screeching of the rider's steeds is like nothing he has ever heard before. The sound alone sends a chill down his spine. He turns Roscoe, digging his heels into her side as she takes off. Hooves pounding the ground behind him let him know his plan is working.

He will do this. He will be the sacrifice so that his people, his prince, his family might live.

He urges Roscoe into a shadow, emerging deep in a forest. Soon the sound of the Riders join him. He doesn't want to loose them, not yet. He wants them to follow him through every shadow – and they do. They not only follow but they start to gain on him. He doesn't dare look back as he steers Roscoe into one final shadow. Hurtling back into moon light brings the border into view.

Stiles' crown still burns bright as Roscoe races towards the dark wall. A figure emerges from the hut.

"The Beast!" Stiles shouts at the hellhound.

All those visits to the border, all that time spent here to not only study the border but the creatures that guard it as well. During that time Stiles concocted a plan, a fail safe for anything that might get across the border and harm the people of his land. The activation words of this plan are simply 'The Beast' - after the first werewolf that had walked this earth.

Parrish doesn't hesitate, he bursts into flames, a fire so bright it burns Stiles eyes; the orange and gold inferno pulse in a staccato beat. Out of the corner of his eye he sees another brightly lit flame shine through the darkness.

The hooves no longer sound as if they are behind him, instead they are echoing beside him as he goes barreling towards the border. His teeth clench as the bite of woven leather wraps around his wrist; the green smoke like oil on his skin. More wipes snake their way around his body, being sure not to loose him as they cross into the border.

_**A/N: **_**I apologize for this taking so long to get uploaded. I have moved states again and am in the process of settling in. The next chapter is written I just need to find the time to type it up. Thank you to those reading and commenting, you are the reason I keep pushing to get this done. Until Next Time. **


	5. Chapter 5

The screeching of a rider is worse then their horses. Two whips loosen and fall away from him. He glances back to see a wall of flame hugging the border.

This is their fail safe – a wall of hellfire that stretches along the border. It seems that the legends are true. No one could survive going through that wall. The hellhounds will keep it burning until one of the Royals commands them to stop. Stiles hopes they will not give that command until the riders are dead. Even if that means he will never return home.

When they leap over the river the world is still bathed in the moonlight. Though the dark sky seems to be getting lighter. The whips tighten around him, he sends off a burst of magic, ripping the sickly weapons off him.

He urges Roscoe on. He can't help but think of how this night is so like the one his mother died on. Though this time he is no longer a scared child, no longer powerless. With that in mind he throws up a screen of smoke, black now that he is no longer where he belongs.

He flies through the closest shadow. When they emerge back into the forest, Stiles starts to shake. It couldn't be from exhaustion… not yet. Fuck, did the riders do something to him? He didn't think they would start draining him until he was dead.

The screeching of the horses, the snapping of the whips, the bite of the leather when they are close enough to make contact with him never leaves as they weave through trees and shadows. No matter what Stiles does with his magic or which way he leads Roscoe the riders continue to hunt him easily.

He doesn't think about where they are going, doesn't think about a direction to run to. He just lets Roscoe lead the way, the old girl giving it everything she has. He blinks away the blurriness in his vision when they emerge from the shadows and find themselves in the street of a village.

The sky is just starting to turn pink as they barrel down the cobblestone path. Its as if the people hadn't slept with how many of them litter the streets. Stiles doesn't have to warn them to get out of his way, they clear a path as soon as they see him. He needs to get out of here before any more innocent blood is shed. But the torches, the people, there isn't a clear path to escape.

Burning leather wraps around his throat, yanking him from Roscoe's back. The cobblestones take skin from his back as he slams into them, his fingers scramble at the coiled rope around his throat.

An earth-shattering scream has Stiles able to breathe again. He rolls onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath. His watery eyes look up to see a woman in a fine purple dress, red hair done up in intricate braids as she stares down the riders.

They've stopped, horses pawing at the ground as they take her in. Only one creature can sound like that and give the riders a pause.

A banshee.

He stands on shaky legs, chest heaving, vision starting to darken on the edges. Maybe he is dying. Most mates follow one another into the afterlife. Stiles swallows around the dryness in his throat at what his body is telling him about Derek.

He meets pure green orbs. "Do it again." He positions his hands as if he is pulling back the string of a bow.

When the banshee turns, jaw dropping to release a scream, Stiles fires an arrow of glinting black magic. It buries itself in the chest of a rider. The monster lets out a shrill sound before exploding in a puff of green smoke, leaving dust to rein down. Even the horse meets the same fate though Stiles does no harm to it.

"Again." He commands.

And again, his arrow flies with the sound of a scream. Three more riders fall before the rest retreat with the rise of the sun.

Stiles pants as his limbs go cold and numb. He meets the gaze of the banshee, opening his mouth to thank her but is cut off.

"What's going on?" A gruff voice calls causing Stiles to turn.

His heart skips a beat. Yes, the man has aged, his hair is grey at the temples and there are more lines on his face then what Stiles remembers but there is no doubt in Stiles' mind who this man is.

"Father?" As soon as the word makes it past his lips his eyes are rolling into the back of his head as his body falls to the ground.

* * *

Stiles' whole body hurt. He can feel every twitch his muscles make. Just taking a breath has his ribs screaming, He cracks an eye open, quickly shutting it at the glare of light. Groaning, he realizes how raw his throat is.

Footsteps alert him of people approaching, but his eyes are still burning from the light to even attempt to open them again.

"Is he awake?" A male asks, that voice is familiar. Something that he never thought he would hear again.

"I believe so." That voice is someone new.

Very slowly he opens his eyes, turning his throbbing head to the people filling what looks to be a small living room. His eyes fall onto oldest male among them. There is no doubt that Stiles would still recognize him years from now.

The man swallows, eyes set on the mage. "I have a son. His name is Mieczysław Stilinski. But we called him Stiles. His mother always called him-"

"Mischief." Stiles breathes.

"Its you." Noah Stilinski takes a stumbling step forward. "Its really you."

Stiles' chapped lips crack into a smile. "Father."

The older man falls to his knees, pulling his son into a tight hug. He is quick to let go when Stiles hisses in pain. Neither of them mentions the tears streaming down their faces.

"We found your mother's body, but there was no sign of you. No trace. As if you had vanished." Noah chokes out. His hand comes up to gently cup Stiles' face, thumb brushing away a tear. "I looked. I looked for so long. Even when I stopped, I never lost hope that you would come back."

Stiles takes in every grey hair, every wrinkle, every familiar feature. "Father." He croaks again. Only to be sent into a coughing fit. "What happened?" He manages to say once he gets his breathing under control.

"Your body was exhausted. It was pushed to the limit fighting off whatever poison was on those whips. Luckily none of your injuries were severe or I fear you might not have made it."

Stiles eyes take in the woman speaking. Studying her as he debates on telling her that the bond was trying to end him, to allow him to rejoin his mate.

"Melissa?" He asks when he recognizes who he is looking at.

The woman smiles. Melissa McCall. She has the same dark curls pulled into a ponytail, same soft smile. He tries to sit up but can only achieve so with his father's help. He pants through the pain as his body settles.

His eyes slid to his father again. Gods, his father. He knows he should say something to the man other then 'father' but all the words in his head are getting jumbled before his tongue can form them. So he focuses on Melissa instead.

"Are you still the village healer?" He asks hoarsely.

"One of them, yes. I did all that I could for you. Even cleaned your mating bite. But you, your magic, is what did most of the work. I believe that is why you've been asleep for three days."

Stiles glances down at his bare chest, at the various healing wounds. They were all but scratches now. Some already pale scares.

"You said," He swallows. "You said if my wounds were severe the likeliness of surviving was –" He can't even finish speaking.

Melissa pierces her lips and nods slowly. Stiles' head falls back as more tears streak down his cheeks. He wishes he knew how to read the bond, how to tell if his mate truly is in the afterlife.

A gentle hand brushes his shoulder. Blinking his vision clear he turns his gaze back to his father. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it, eyes troubled. It is too much, there is too much to say, to ask, to try to make up for lost time.

Movement has him looking at the others filling the room. The red headed banshee, a curly haired man with haunted eyes, a young woman that is looking at Stiles as if he is prey, a man with a lopsided jaw. Stiles blinks at the man. He has tan skin, short black hair, and the biggest puppy eyes. He squints. He knows those eyes, that jaw.

"Scott?" He whispers.

The man before him breaks out into a smile as he takes a step closer. "Its me." His voice is deeper with maturity and the way he holds himself… "You've grown up, Scottie."

The would throws his head back with laughter. "So have you." He squats in front of the mage eyes flashing red.

Stiles gasps. "You're an alpha?"

His childhood best friend nods. "I didn't take it. It just happened."

"A true alpha. You are a true alpha?!" The mage winces in pain at the outburst.

Scott only smiles though his eyes take in his pain. Gently he takes Stiles' long fingers into his hand. The mage watches as his friend's veins turn black, leaching the pain from his body. "Thank you."

The young alpha nods, then he turns gesturing to the people behind him though he never loosens his grip on Stiles. "This is a few of my pack. Lydia a banshee, Isaac is one of our wolves, and Malia." His smile takes on a different quality. "She's our coyote."

Stiles can't help but notice the slight blush that takes the woman who nodded at the name of Malia. When Scott turns back to him he raises an eyebrow in question.

"She accepted my proposal the other night at the festival."

Stiles tries to smile, he really does. But to see that his best friend has made a life for himself, has a pack, a soon to be mate, he is happy for him but it hurts. Hurts to know that he missed it.

"Maybe we should give Stiles time to adjust." His father speaks.

Scott's chocolate eyes study him before he nods. He turns to his pack. "Go talk to the others. Keep them informed and stay alert incase those things decide to come back."

"They will."

All eyes turn to the mage.

"Are you sure? Its been three days and there has been no sign of them." The banshee, Lydia, says.

"They will be back. Until they are all dead or I am."

Mouths open with questions, but Noah cuts them off. "Tomorrow. Tonight, I would like to have family dinner with my son."

Stiles watches as Scott's pack leaves except for Melissa and the alpha himself.

"I'll get started with dinner." Melissa says before exciting the room.

"I'm going to go fix your room." Scott says following his mother out.

Stiles raises his eyebrow at his father in silent question. The older man sits next to him staring at the wall in front of them.

"You and Claudia were my world. She was the love of my life. My everything. I never thought my heart could be so full until the day you were born." He pauses taking a deep breath. Stiles can see the tears shinning in the corner of the man's eye. "And then that night happened, and you were both gone. We didn't realize there was so many. I was to distract them. Give you and your mother time to run. But –" He clears his throat to hide a sob, but it doesn't escape Stiles' notice. "But then we found your mother. My heart shattered at the sight of her." His father's eyes turn towards him. "I promise I looked for you. I looked every day for you. I will never forget your mother just like I never forgot about you."

Stiles snakes a hand out to squeeze his father's. "I'm happy for you. Happy that you were still able to open your heart up and find love again." Stiles' own cheeks are wet. "I just wish I could have been here with you."

His father sobs a laugh. "I thought you would be angry with me. That you would think I was replacing you and your mother."

Stiles shakes his head before allowing it to rest on his father's shoulder. "I've missed you." He finally says.

He feels the press of his father's cheek on the top of his head. "I've missed you too. Rest. We'll talk more when you wake."

Though he had just recently woken he couldn't help but allow sleep to take him under again.

* * *

He wakes to Noah gently shaking him. "Food is ready." He whispers softly.

It seems his father hadn't moved an inch since the mage fell asleep. Stiles also realizes that his bladder hasn't been released in days. "I need a bathing room."

"I'll help him." Scott says stepping into the room.

The wolf helps Stiles onto his feet and, to Stiles' dismay, helps him walk to the bathing room as his veins run black against Stiles' skin. "Thank you. I can handle it from here." Stiles says when it appears that his _step-brother _is going to stay.

After relieving himself he frowns at his sleep pants. They are black as night like all shadow realm cloth, but they are tattered and torn and there is no doubt that all the dark stains are blood. Opening the door he is greeted by Scott who has a handful of clothing.

He smiles shyly. "We got you clothes. Lydia says they'll fit and seeing as how she's a very good seamstress, I believe her."

Stiles takes the clothes with a thank you. The next time he opens the door, he's dressed in the well-fitting tunic and pants. Scott helps the mage down to the dinning table, sitting him next to his father. Stiles stomach rumbles at the sire of food spread across the table.

He was always well fed, he felt like family around the Hale dinning table, or when he was snagging a meal from the kitchens, but it had never looked this - never felt so… homey.

They each fill they're plates, though Stiles has some help from his father. The first bite is amazing, the second is just as good.

"The pack would like to visit tomorrow. To let you meet everyone." Scott says after several bites from his own plate.

Stiles hums softly. "I can handle that." He raises his eyebrows when he notices Scott watching him.

"You know, you're pack too."

Stiles swallows, eyes darting around the table. "Thank you, but I already have a pack."

Eating utensils cluttering is the only response for Stiles for a few beats.

"Your mate's pack?" His father asks.

Stiles nods, fingers going to caress his mating bite.

"Is that the reason for the tattoo?" Scott asks quietly.

"Yes. It's the family symbol."

"Scott has done that as well." Melissa prompts, eyes on her son expectedly.

The alpha raises the sleeve of his tunic to show two thick black lines encircling his bicep, one thicker than the other. "Each member of the pack has it. I-I was hoping one day you would too."

Stiles feels his stomach churn uneasily. He never thought he would ever have to chose because he never thought he would get this opportunity.

Noah clears his throat. "So, what is the name of your mate?"

Stiles smiles at his father gratefully. "Derek."

"Is he good to you?"

"Yes. He-He's a sourwolf, but wonderful." Stiles heart tightens as the sight of Derek's chest sliced open, blood spilling as he fell, flashes before his eyes. He must take a drink before being able to speak with his suddenly dry mouth. "He was injured the last I saw him." His father's hand on his has him giving them a watery smile. He clears his throat. "Someone tell me about themselves."

"There isn't much to tell about your father and I. We are creatures of habit. He is still the peacekeeper and I am still a healer. We were married four years ago." Stiles smiles at his step-mother.

"Are you happy?"

The soft smile she gives Noah tells Stiles all he needs to know. "Very much so."

The mage looks to his brother. "And you?"

A dreamy look overtakes Scott's face. "Malia is my mate to be. You meet her earlier today, but I'll introduce you again tomorrow."

With that the tension at the table is broken and they fall into an easy conversation of little things they'd like one another to know. Stiles doesn't mention that his pack is the royal family or what his role is – he doesn't think they are ready for that.

When dinner is over, Stiles finds himself laying in _his_ bed staring at the clear sky outside his window, emotions at a slight war.

He is grateful and happy to be with his father and his childhood friend – now family. But what about the family he has left behind? His mother had to die for him to find the Hales. Does that mean Derek has died for him to have his first family back?

_**A/N:**_ _Hey! I'm not dead. Yay. I'll be honest I kind of hate this chapter. I've typed it out and deleted it about three times. I'm just biting the bullet and getting it out there. Hope you enjoy. I would really like to have some feed back with this chapter. YOLO. Until Next Time. _


	6. Chapter 6

The next day Stiles is feeling well enough to walk on his own, though he can only manage small steps. After relieving himself in the bathing room he calls his magic to his fingers, doing what little he can to help move his healing along without any potions. The small act exhausts him more then it should.

With a heavy sigh he makes his way to the living room where he is greeted with a room full of people. Scott's pack is barely contained within the space.

Scott looks sheepish as he approaches Stiles, "I told them to come over after lunch. I didn't expect you to sleep so long."

Stiles looks out the window. Oh. The sun is high in the sky instead of just making its rise. "I apologize."

"Why? You're healing." A brunette says.

That's when Stiles realizes that he remembers none of the names of the few pack he was introduced to. He at least knows that the woman was here yesterday. His face must give away his memory loss for Scott gently starts introductions.

"This is Malia." He motions for her to come closer. Allowing her to hold out her hand with a quick jerk. Stiles takes it in a ginger shake.

He hasn't encountered this sort of introduction since he left the village. Most bowed or curtsied thanks to his title and relationship to the Hales.

"You're Scott's mate." He at least remembered that.

"Mate to be." She corrects.

Stiles huffs a soft laugh. "Whether you are wearing each other's mark or not, it doesn't make him any less your mate." The smile he receives is blinding, followed by a hug that has him wincing.

"Easy, Malia." Scott says, gently prying her off the mage. "Sorry, she tends to live with one foot in the forest. People skills don't come easy."

"Coyote, correct?" She nods. "Your kind isn't known for they're sociable behavior." Because its rather odd to have a coyote in a wolf pack.

"I was brought here when I was young. My dad took me in and helped me make friends with shifters my age."

Stiles must look away from the possessive look she gives Scott.

The tall boy – no man from yesterday steps forward with a shy smile. "Most of us are misfits. We found one another and became pack – family. I'm Isaac." Stiles squeezes his hand in greeting. "I'm Scott's second." The mage bows his head slightly to show respect for his title.

His stomach growls before anyone else can speak. Stiles can't find the energy to be embarrassed as he sways slightly.

"Take a seat, Stiles." Scott commands. Stiles cuts his eyes to the alpha in amusement. "Please."

With that the mage makes his way to the couch. Sighing in relief when he is seated on the soft cushioning.

The blonde is the next to approach. She smiles with red painted lips – eyes flashing gold. Isaac huffs in exasperation. "What? Unlike you two I know how to properly introduce myself to a different species." She turns her amused filled chocolate eyes back to Stiles. "I'm Erica."

Stiles wants to tell her that they've met before. That she has served him, his mate, and her possible mate. But now is not the time for that.

"I have a feeling you'll eat me alive if I am not careful." Stiles says with a smile.

Questioning recognition sparks behind those eyes, but she only answers with. "Absolutely."

Twins males take Erica's place when she walks away.

"I'm Aiden."

"And I'm Ethan."

They both flash their red eyes. Stiles can only stare at them.

"We're from the Alpha territory. It's a horrible place. You either kill or be killed. We left as soon as we could." The first twin, Aiden, says.

"But not before we had to fight off a few alphas. We never wanted the power; we never wanted to separate and lead out own packs. We are just lucky we found this pack; lucky Scott was willing to take in two alphas." Ethan says with a small smile to all those around them.

Stiles nods because he isn't sure what to say to a story like that.

The next to speak is a younger boy. "My name is Liam. Hayden, Mason, and Corey couldn't be here because they had to help their parents." He says quickly before flashing golden eyes.

"You're just a pup."

A blush takes the young wolf's face. "I can carry my own weight."

"I don't doubt that. I'm just surprised by your age." Stiles takes in the room around him, repeating names to help memorize them. "Isn't there one mo-"

"I'm Lydia." The banshee says as she sets a tray of food on Stiles lap.

The mage's eyes flicker from the food to emerald green. The woman is beautiful and fierce. Stiles has never heard of a banshee using her power to fight and he can't deny that he is eager to learn more about what the creature in front of him is capable of.

"Thank you."

As he starts to fill his empty stomach, the pack begins to settle down around him. Scott sits next to him, arm protectively thrown over the back of Stiles shoulders. Malia sits in the floor at their feet, leaning back against Scott's legs. The rest of the pack sits in various chairs or the floor, Lydia opting to sit in one of the twin's lap.

"Do you know what those things were that were after you?" Liam asks after Stiles has been able to finish most of his plate.

The mage doesn't miss the glare his brother sends the young wolf's way. "They are called Ghost Riders. Known to ride the lightening." He takes another bite, swallowing before continuing. "A very long time ago twelve mages gathered. They were power hungry and drunk on the idea that _they _should be the ones to rule any land they so wished. They abused their power, experimented with it until they discovered a way to absorb the power of another." Stiles takes two more bites. "Their first attack took the lives of twelve mages. One for each of them. That slaughter did something to them, to their magic, to their very souls. The color of their magic turned a sickly green. It clung to them, to their steeds too. The more lives they took the more powerful they became but the less human they were. They eventually started the wild hunt."

He must take a deep breath. Setting his mostly empty tray aside. "They started hunting for mage's as if it were a sport. Its why my kind became scarce. Why most of us try to hide. Their hunt brought attention to mages, brought more enemies upon us." He looks at the faces around him, taking in their emotions – from blank stares to utter horror. "I thought they were only legend. They had not been spotted or talked of outside of old books for decades."

"But they can be killed. You killed five of them." Liam says a little hopeful.

"But they're weren't twelve of them." Isaac points out.

"Two were killed on my way here."

"So legends can die." The twin without Lydia in his lap states.

"Not easily. The only reason my magic was able to kill them is because of Lydia. Her scream weakens them, seems to make them human again." Stiles lays his head on Scott's shoulder, sinking more into the couch. Gods, he's tired.

"How did you kill the other two?" Erica asks.

Stiles can't help the slight smirk that crosses his face. "Only a hellhound can survive hellfire."

"You know a hellhound?" Malia asks, turning to rest her chin on Scott's knee.

"I know several." Stiles murmurs as his eyelids begin to droop.

"Will they be back?" Scott asks softly.

"Yes. They do no stop until they've hunted the mage they are after."

Through slow blinks, Stiles takes in the silent conversations being shot around the room. This is a very close-knit pack for everyone to seem to understand one another without having to say a word.

"I will leave as soon as I am healed enough to do so."

_What_'s and _Why_'s erupt at his words, startling him to full awareness. He sits up straight, meeting Scott's glowing panicked eyes.

"They will return for me and I will not allow them to hurt the people of this village they way they did mine."

"We just got you back." The true alpha whines.

"How do you plan to kill another one without the scream of a banshee?" Lydia challenges.

Stiles meets her eyes coolly. "I will find another way."

"Or you lead them as far away as you can before they catch you." The twin that has Lydia perched on his lap says.

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek as he glares at the wolf.

"Is that your plan Stiles? To sacrifice yourself?" Isaac asks softly.

The mage doesn't answer. He doesn't need to, they know already.

"What about your mate?" Erica's voice is just as soft as Isaac's.

Stiles' hand goes to rub at his chest. "I don't know if he is still with me. The last I saw, a rider's whip was slicing him open…. There was so much blood. It looked fatal even for a werewolf." He swallows. "I don't feel anything from the bond." Its only a whisper but the words echo throughout the room.

Without warning, Scott is pushing himself off the couch and practically fleeing the room. Malia is the only one to follow. Stiles blinks at the doorway the two disappeared through.

"Are you sure there is nothing we can do? Anything that will keep you here with us?" Erica asks.

Stiles can't tear his eyes from the doorway. He hasn't been with Scott in years, hasn't been able to grow the brotherly bond between them as they aged. He was in this very village on the journey back from the desert and he didn't drop everything to look for the wolf. So why does Scott walking away hurt?

When Erica asks her question again Stiles' golden-brown orbs slide to her. "I will not be the cause of more bloodshed."

"But if we prepare, you won't have to be. We have dealt with threats before and we will again. This will just be normal for us." Lydia reasons.

The mage frowns. "I'm still weak and healing. I do not have full power of my magic. If they struck today, I wouldn't be able to help."

Footsteps has everyone's attention turning to the doorway where Noah stands. "Can I have a moment with my son?"

The pack is quick to leave the room. The older man sits next to Stiles with a heavy sigh.

"Scott ran to you?"

"I am as much a father to him as I am to you. Isaac too since the boy has practically lived with us since his father died."

"He lives here?"

The man nods. "In the room you're staying in. He stayed with Erica last night. He wanted to give you space to adjust with your family."

Stiles opens his mouth to say… what does he say? He isn't mad or upset that his father had a chance to be a parent to others, but he can't help but feel an ache in his chest.

"He shouldn't be kicked out of his room because of me. I won-" Stiles clears his throat, "I won't be staying long."

Noah sighs, head laying against the back of the couch as he stares at the wall in front of them. "Sacrificing yourself. Do you not have more to live for?" Stiles can't speak. "You have us. You have a mate. Scott told me about the bond. Sometimes a new bond takes time to settle. Just because you can not feel anything now does not mean your mate is dead."

"What if he is? My body isn't healing like it should. Some mates follow one another into de- I can't. I can't. He's my everything. I would give anything to save him. Even my magic." A tear rolls down his face. "I'm sorry father, but I am not certain I can move on with my life without him."

"And if he is alive? If you do this and he comes looking for you afterwards, what of him? What of his love for you?" Finally, Noah turns wet eyes onto his son. "I know its hard losing someone like that and I know its something entirely stronger with the bond. But throwing your life away on a what is is not what needs to be done."

"I don't want anymore bloodshed."

"There will be more bloodshed if you do this. I know what the riders are. Your mother told me about them. Once you're gone they'll move on to the next mage. But if we have a chance to stop them then we should." He thumbs away a tear on Stiles cheek. "Stay with us. Heal. Help us prepare. Give your bond time to settle and hold onto the hope that your mate is out there heling himself so that he can come find you."

"Isaac gets to come back. This is his home. I will not be stealing it from him."

The soft smile that takes his father's face has Stiles' heart tightening with affection.

So Stiles stays. He rests, heals, and he gets to re-know his family. He also starts to befriend Scott's pack. Every night he falls asleep on Isaac's bed, since the wolf decided the mage needed his privacy and Scott didn't mind having to share his room, his hand will rest on his chest as if can reach in and take hold of the bond that should be within.

Every night he wishes he has the ability to confirm that his mate is alive.

_**A/N:** __Eyyy another chapter. I want to thank everyone who reads and comments! Y'all are what keeps motivated, even if it takes a bit. Hope you've enjoyed. Until next time!_


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles sits in his room, magic swirling through his fingers as he played with it. The last week has seen his wounds fully heal. He no longer needs to move carefully in fear of agitating his back or sore muscles. The pack, Melissa, and his father have done well to help him recover. But now the mage has discovered an issue he truly has never faced before.

He's bored.

In the Shadow Realm – at _home _there was always something to be done. If not, he could find entertainment with training, reading, or one of the Hales. Some days it seemed like he couldn't get a chance to rest.

Now he has all the time of the day to rest. That was important while healing, he's better now though. He is ready to start training again, to prepare for when the riders return.

But everyone is busy doing chores or work duties and Stiles doesn't have a single idea on what he can do to occupy his time. Roscoe's old stable out back is the cleanest it can be; her coat and mane can't be groomed anymore.

Maybe the village has a library? His father's home doesn't even have a bookshelf. He tried to tell his father one night about the great libraries he has visited but then he watched as the man's eyes had skirted around his home with a sadness Stiles couldn't quite bare. The next day he had woken with three books on the table next to his bed. That was the hardest part about being back in Beacon Hills, the ache and sadness that was brought with the evidence of time lost with the ones you love. Feeling the need to fill the void, to be more then who are for the other person.

His gaze falls to the window. Though he has started to learn everyone's title and duties within the village he can't think of one that will allow his presence let alone how he would get to them. The only other place he has been to in this village is Erica's Tavern.

Erica!

Stiles can easily visit _The Smiling Wolf. _Quickly he dresses in black trousers, black tunic, with the only pair of black boots he has been provided. Though the clothes are the shadow deep clothing of the Shadow Realm, the mage feels more comfortable in the colors. He grabs a cloak, tying it around his shoulders. There is a pang in his chest – wishing his mother's cloak is with him and not left at home.

He takes a deep breath before stepping into a shadow. He emerges in the back of the large tavern room. His appearance startles some villagers, one man in particular. He stands so quickly his chair topples over. His face is pale, eyes wide as he stares at Stiles. Then he is bolting out the door, leaving his meal half eaten on the table.

The mage approaches the bar with a frown on his face. Erica is waiting for him with a curious gleam in her eyes.

"I didn't want to scare anyone." He grumbles, taking a seat on a bar stool.

"Tate is always jumpy. But you must realize that anyone from the Shadow Realm causes unease." She talks as she goes about serving him a drink.

Stiles peeks over his shoulder, watching as more people quickly make an exit, throwing money onto the table, eyes never leaving him.

"Starling is to be expected. Straight up terror not so much."

"They saw what you did with the riders. They saw your magic." Erica leaves the bar to start clearing the now vacant tables.

With a wave of his hand dishes, glasses, and utensils start to float from the tables to the bar. Erica blinks slowly as she watches the soft smoke swirl under the objects.

"You mean they saw the color of my magic." Stiles allows the dishes to settle in neat piles on the bar, eyes tracking Erica as she makes her way behind the bar. "You need more help." He says quietly.

"If you decide to stay, I won't need to hire anyone."

A man emerges from the kitchen doorway, hair sticking up in every direction with a wild look in his eye. "Did you just offer magic boy a job? We won't ever have any customers."

Stiles raises an eyebrow at Erica, who only rolls her eyes. "Coach, its my bar. I can hire anyone I please."

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should." The man gathers as many plates as his arms can hold.

"I am right here." Stiles mutters into his mug.

"Oh, I see you bilinski." With that Coach disappears back into the kitchen.

Erica sighs heavily, "That would be Bobby Finstock, though he prefers to be called Coach. He's my cook."

"Why Coach?"

"Don't ask me. He might be a little on the loopy side but he's the best damn cook in the village."

Stiles chuckles softly before taking another sip of his drink. Erica goes about finishing the clean up and helping a couple of new customers. They don't leave as soon as they notice the mage, but they do seat themselves close to the door and keep an eye on him. Once Erica has a chance to slow down, she gazes at him with soft chocolate eyes, as if she knows he has been waiting to say something.

"I haven't said where I have been all these years." Stiles voice is barely above a whisper.

Erica whips her hands on a towel as she studies him. "I had my suspicions. You are everything like the myths and legends say; black magic and the ability to move through shadows. You also didn't deny it."

"Scott questions me almost daily of where I have been. You haven't told him about your suspicions?"

"Its not my place." She meets his eyes with a steadiness that causes him to smile.

"Why are people scared of me? I've made no claims of where I am from."

"Your magic is black, a color that is widely associated with the border." The she-wolf shrugs.

"Why would you fear the border or the people that live beyond it? My people hardly cross the border, what have we done to warrant this reaction"

"Because no one on this side can cross it or even see through it. We don't know what creatures dwell within. The darkness it produces eats up everything. Even the great river curves away from it so that it can survive."

Stiles can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. "The river curves because that is what the river wishes to do. The Border isn't something that the creatures from the Shadow Realm can see through either."

"So, its not all darkness and shadows? You don't prefer to wear black because it reminds you of home? You know, the last patrons I had in here from the shadow realm also wore black." She holds her finger up before he can respond, quickly making her way to a table that waved her over.

When she returns Stiles waits until she stops moving before opening his mouth, "We don't live in darkness. The sun rises and descends just like it does here, we experience color and life just like you would here. We just have a deeper connection to our land; the realm claims us just as we claim it." He takes the last sip of his drink. Erica takes the mug from him, refilling it before placing it back in front of him. "When we leave the place where we belong, our clothes, magic, even wolf pelts – it all changes to the color black."

"Why?" Erica asks eyes wide with wonder.

Stiles shrugs.

"Don't just shrug." She hisses whipping him with a hand towel. "This isn't a shrugging type of question."

Stiles chuckles as he grins at her. "We believe that it's the way the Shadow Realm claims us. Tells us where we belong. My magic is only its true color when I am home." The smile that takes his face is almost wicked. "It is why my travel companions and I's clothing were black when we visited here."

Erica gasps. "That was you? That…. Then you know him?"

Stiles nods, understanding exactly who she is referring too. "We had a mission to complete on this side of the border. We were on our way home when I sidetracked us here. It was myself, my mate, and Vernon Boyd."

"Vernon Boyd." She repeats. "He's a wolf. One of your wolves?"

"Boyd is a wolf, he is also a solider and one of the best royal guards."

"Royal guard?" A gentleman at the end of the bar waves at Erica. The she-wolf turns, "Coach! I need you out here!"

The man appears behind the bar within the blink of an eye. Erica gestures to the customer before turning back to Stiles.

"Yes, he is a royal guard. I believe he is the most trusted for the prince." Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. Debating on if he should say what he wants to. They may never cross paths again, but if he can help it they will and He believes Boyd would want Erica to know. "He feels the same pull you do. I caught him looking towards the border several times after our return."

The smile that takes Erica's face is so full of relief and need. "I am going to have him. He will be mine and I will be his."

Stiles' heart thumps painfully on his chest. That is exactly the type of feeling Derek ignites in him.

Erica must be able to sense where his thoughts have taken him, "I have faith that your mate is still alive. I believe the two of you have a strong enough bond that you will follow the other into the afterlife. You still being here means that he is still breathing."

Tears well up in Stiles' eyes. "Thank you."

She smiles, "Now finish your drink and get out of here. Supper time is coming up and I can't have you scaring off any more customers."

Stiles laughs, "Erica, I believe this is the start of a wonderful friendship." He tips his mug up and drains the beer in a few gulps. Erica raises her eyebrow at him, "I was raised with wolves. I learned how to keep up in all aspects of life."

He stands, pushing his stool back up against the bar. "I will see you tomorrow for the pack meeting." Without glancing at anyone in the room he walks into the nearest shadow and emerges in his father's living room.

Noah is sitting on the couch as if he has been waiting for him. "I received a visit from a very worried Henry Tate today about a man emerging from the shadows."

With a sigh Stiles sinks into he cushions next to him. "He was there when I arrived at Erica's tavern." His father nods. "It wasn't my intention to scare him."

"He's always been leery of strangers. Worried that someone is going to come and take away his daughter."

Stiles' eyebrows knit together in thought. "Tate. Isn't that Malia's last name?"

"Yes. Henry is her father. He came to me rambling about how they've come to take her."

"Take her? Why would someone like me want Malia?"

"Henry lost his wife and daughter in a horrible accident years ago. The two were on they're way to town when something attacked them. We were never able to prove what or who was behind it, but Henry was lost in his grief. Barely left the house, wouldn't speak to anyone. Weeks passed with him isolating himself. Then, one day, he arrived to town with this little girl covered in dirt. He claims he found her in the woods behind his house." Stiles isn't sure what to say, thankfully his father keeps speaking. "He's claimed Malia as his own ever since. I believe he's protective of her because of the attack, but maybe there is a different reason. Something he hasn't told anyone yet."

"Do you know anymore about Malia's history? Her bloodline or anything?"

"Perhaps this is something to discuss with her."

* * *

Derek Hale slowly opens his eyes. He never knew he could be so sore before. Never knew what this achy feeling was truly like. He groans as the world seems to spin, quickly shitting his eyes again.

"Derek? Derek are you awake?" He cracks an eye open to see Laura hovering over him. "Cora, go get mother."

Footsteps pound away as Derek slowly allows his eyes to open, taking in his older sister. Dark bags hand under her eyes as if she hasn't been getting any sleep. Her beautiful face is pale, lips pulled into a thin smile as a tear tracks down her cheek.

Fingers comb through his hair as Laura speaks, "Hello, little brother."

"Laura." He croaks, trying to sit up but stops with a hiss of pain. His whole torso feels as if its on fire.

"Shh, its best if you don't move. Your body is still healing."

Still healing? He's a werewolf. Wounds shouldn't take this long to heal. What happened? He remembers the mating ritual, claiming Stiles as his, and then the green lightening. He knew as soon as he saw the first horseman crack his whip what they were.

Ghost Riders.

He hadn't thought, just acted as he jumped into the chaos to protect his people. To try to think of a way to protect his mate. One of the rider's whips has sliced him open. The last thing he remembers is seeing Stiles galloping away with a crown of magic.

Stiles had led the riders away.

"Stiles!" Derek voice cracks with the harshness of his urgency.

"Easy, pup. We do not need you popping your stitches." His mother's commanding voice washes over him. The presence of his alpha soothing some part of him, but not the need to find his mate.

"Stitches?" He asks distractingly. He has never had a need for them before.

"Yes, my son. Stitches. A wound as severe as yours needed them." His mother takes Laura's place, her own fingers beginning the task of soothing through his hair.

"Where's Stiles? Where is my mate?" He whispers.

His mother's lips thin as she glances at his sisters. "Stiles was very brave in leading the riders away. He saved many lives including your own."

"Where is he." He asks again. Hoping that he won't here what he fears the most.

"He led them out of the realm, across the border. He hasn't returned."

_No_.

His breath catches in his throat as his heart hammers against his ribs. "I have to find him. I nee-"

"You need to finish healing." His mother says stopping his feeble attempts at rising with a strong hand to his shoulder.

"My mate is out there!"

"And your wounds should have killed you." The queen's eyes flash red as she growls. Derek blinks at his alpha as she takes a deep breath to calm herself. "The ceremony happened over two weeks ago. The hellhounds have not stopped burning a wall at the border since Stiles crossed. I have faith in our mage seeing as how you are still with us." She smiles softly. "The legend is true. A strong enough mating bond will allow the two to pull off one another's energies in desperate times."

Derek swallows as he allows the information sink in.

"Stiles is alive." He says slowly. "But I don't feel the bond."

"You haven't had time to be around Stiles so that you two can familiarize yourselves with it."

Derek nods, his eyes starting to feel heavy.

"Mother, I think we should let Derek rest." Laura says softly.

His alpha nods, brushing her fingers along his face. She nuzzles his cheek, scenting him softly before leaving the room. Laura does the same, whispering "Sleep well" as she scents him.

When Cora is the only one present, he clears his throat. "Call for Boyd."

She only has to leave for a few seconds. When the beat is standing next to the bed Derek blinks rapidly, truing to hold off sleep for just a little longer. "Boyd, I need you to find Stiles. He's alive, but if I am pulling from his energy, he's weak and vulnerable. Please, find my mate. Bring him home."

His eyes start to fall shut, body pulling him under for more healing rest. He hears Boyd say, "Yes, my Prince", Before sleep fully takes him.

_**A/N**: Hey! Look at that! I do remember how to type and post. I apologize for this taking so long. I will try to do better with posting more frequently, but I make no I am still working during all this, I am deemed an essential worker so my schedule is just as packed as before. I hope you are still enjoying the story, thank you so much for reading. Love it when you leave your reviews! Until Next Time!_


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